


No Competition

by Siera_Writes



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M, Multi, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siera_Writes/pseuds/Siera_Writes
Summary: Jamie keeps throwing looks at Graham, on the chair next to his sofa, sharing his amusement. They've worked past the wariness now, and it's a relief, easy camaraderie returning in a rush. They edged around each other the first session Damon had Graham recording in, before Damon managed to get them together for a takeaway in the studio. Graham's got his glasses off, looking more settled in himself than Jamie ever recalls. He's steady, dark eyes watching Damon fool around with keen amusement, a gentle smile in place. He's growing out his stubble, and it's flecked with grey, a reminder of the sheer depth of time passed. Other than that, he's the same. Jamie finds himself looking over at him and seeing remnants of the shy boy he first knew: the one with an often-ignored resolve.





	No Competition

**Author's Note:**

> After a little bit of discussion with Heather and Pat (roomeight and glowinginahuddle on tumblr, respectively - go follow them if you don't already), this came about, aided by some recent pictures of Graham and Jamie, and Damon and Graham, both before a gig. This is based after the gig and takes huge liberties, but still.
> 
> Name is multi-faceted, in that I believe the dynamic between Damon and Graham, and the one between Damon and Jamie, while competetive, are quite different, and thus, neither usurps the other. On the other hand, within the realms of the story, sticking with some interesting intra-relationship dynamics having shifted over the years, Damon's not simply the most domineering personality, there's more give and take, even if the competetiveness is still there.
> 
> So yeah, hope you enjoy this. Come follow me on tumblr (eviljaffafish), and feel free to chat with me, if you like. This is unbetaed, as usual, so any and all mistakes are mine.

Jamie leans himself back into the sofa, his upper lip pulled up, showing his teeth in a bemused grin at Damon's typical antics, a parade of bizarre tales, sudden bursts of musicianship on disparate instruments lying around, and then his only half-knowingly slips into charming everyone in the backroom. He's capricious, as always. The majority of the people present are on the side of the room across from Jamie and Graham, crowded around him, mostly in awe.

Jamie keeps throwing looks at Graham, on the chair next to his sofa, sharing his amusement. They've worked past the wariness now, and it's a relief, easy camaraderie returning in a rush. They edged around each other the first session Damon had Graham recording in, before Damon managed to get them together for a takeaway in the studio. Graham's got his glasses off, looking more settled in himself than Jamie ever recalls. He's steady, dark eyes watching Damon fool around with keen amusement, a gentle smile in place. He's growing out his stubble, and it's flecked with grey, a reminder of the sheer depth of time passed. Other than that, he's the same. Jamie finds himself looking over at him and seeing remnants of the shy boy he first knew: the one with an often-ignored resolve.

After an instance of Damon being particularly stupid, Graham looks at Jamie head-on, laugh-lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. They're all older, now, but none the wiser. Jamie leans across, inclining his head, thinking Graham want to whisper something in his ear, biting his lips as he prepares for whatever drily delivered morsel of Damon trivia Graham might impart on him. He's surprised by the soft brush of lips on his cheek, faint touch of stubble accompanying. Jamie's eyes widen, but when he turns to look at the man, there's no teasing there, just apologetic fondness - not for the kiss itself, but about their animosity, finally past them - grinning sweetly. Jamie's heart skips, a comfortable nerviness beneath his skin.

Jamie darts a glance over at Damon, feeling the heaviness of his interest on them, though there's been no lull in conversation. Damon's a consummate professional, could give Jamie a handjob with nary a hair out of place, and still answer a call with utmost sincerity and devilment in his eyes. He senses Graham lean closer to him, watching Damon equally as avidly, just to see what he'll do. Graham's hand is a heavy weight on his upper arm, possessive in a casual way, and Jamie slides down his chair into a further slouch, repositioning his feet, knees falling further open. He slings an arm out, not looking, delighted when the heel of his hand comes to rest on the top of Graham's thigh, further up his leg than he intended.

The dark glower on Damon's face is priceless, and Jamie brings his right hand up to stifle his laughter, barely, grin spreading wide behind his knuckles. A quick glance at Graham reveals he's smiling too, but his is challenging, unrestrained provocation staining his features. Jamie bites his lip, dropping his hand to rest on the top of his thigh, thumb on his hipbone beneath his jeans. There are images in his mind now, flashes of memory, and imagination, all meshing into a delightful tapestry. Damon notices: of course he does, all sharp-eyed and canny as he is. Doesn't notice Mike sidling up to him though, if his little jump is anything to go by.

Graham shifts closer, bumping Jamie's hand where it rests, so it's in the crease between his leg and body, the loose material of Graham's tee drifting across his skin, feeling the shift of his ribs and abdomen with each measured breath. Graham's right hand shifts up Jamie's arm, over the thick material of his button-up, to curl around the back of his neck. Jamie shivers. This is so different to how he remembers Graham's personality, though there were always hints. He's more like Damon now, but most definitely still disparate, this being unaffected, not like Damon's intentional ministrations. Damon's deliberate in everything he does, whereas Graham is... not impulsive, but less about planning his movements.

Jamie pushes into the touch, shivering as Graham's thumb skims the bare flesh between his collar and hair. Damon swallows thickly, ducks to speak into Mike's ear directly, eyes not leaving them, darting between them. Mike looks more than a little amused, claps him on the shoulder with a wry smirk before wheeling around and ushering the miscellaneous people from the room, winking at Damon as he leaves.

And then it's just the three of them, alone in a wide, white room, all fully dressed. 

Damon wavers on his feet, seeming almost unsure, finally breaking away to look at the door behind him, and Graham knows him better than Jamie, just this once; he stands up quickly, moving on the balls of his feet, flighty, lifting his hands up to frame Damon's face as he kisses Damon squarely, flat against his front. Jamie feels cold without the contact between their skin, but he shifts his hand closer to his crotch, interest swirling in the pit of his belly, feeling a tautness beneath his stomach.

Graham's leading Damon backwards, blindly, and Jamie takes the opportunity to get up from his seat and press flush to Graham's back, feeling the broadness of him, and how slender his waist is, shifting his hands around him, crossing to Damon's waist, feeling the difference in physique: heavier-set, strong. Both of them. Jamie kisses the nape of Graham's neck wetly, smirking as Graham breaks from Damon to moan breathily. Graham's working on stripping Damon, so Jamie does the same to Graham, scrabbling ineffectually at the hem of Graham's striped tee until they stop to synchronise their movements, so both Damon and Graham are bared.

Jamie pushes forwards to kiss Graham properly himself, smoothing the flats of his hands over the swells of Graham's deltoids, and back up again, snaking his arms around Graham's neck and clinging, humming as Damon slinks up behind him, embracing them both, much as Jamie had done. Damon leaves light skips of his lips across Jamie's cheeks, their stubble rasping together slightly. He tightens his arms around Graham, panting when his erection presses against Graham's thigh, feeling Graham's against his leg. Damon keeps nuzzling, then nipping and worrying at the flesh of his neck, slowly bringing his hands up Jamie's front to undo the buttons. Jamie can feel him grinning.

Graham and Damon both step back to help slip Jamie's shirt off. They stand in a triangle, glancing between each other, Graham's lips rosy, their breathing slightly laboured. Jamie smiles at Damon as faux-sweetly as he can manage, reaching to grab Graham's hand and tugging him along, pulling Graham down on top of him on the short sofa, grimacing at how his legs have to loop over the arm, and how Graham has to perch over him, curling his back to kiss Jamie at all.

"This won't do at all." Jamie leans up to plant a determined, closed-mouthed kiss on Graham's mouth, before pushing him up, disentangling his legs from where their limbs are tangled. "Oi, Damon, get over here." He relaxes back into the sofa, throwing his right arm across Graham's shoulder and pulling him close, stroking his free hand over Graham's cheek, cradling his head, as he leans in to kiss him, flicking his tongue at Graham's lips. Damon hovers in front of them, eyes dark and hot. He's undone his belt, and the buckle clinks against his leg, momentum from his passage dying away.

Unbidden, Damon moves to straddle them both, knees brushing deliberately close to their crotches, pulling his belt from his jeans and gathering it in front of him, forearms cording, before tossing it thoughtlessly to the floor behind him. He leans forward, right hand on Jamie's neck, thumb stroking back and forth, as he sinks his dominant hand into Graham's hair, pulling him and Jamie apart, before kissing Graham deeply, sloppily. Jamie riles, reaching to press the flat of his palm against Damon's length through his jeans, feeling a malicious glee as Damon breaks away to gasp, ribs shifting under his tanned skin.

Jamie takes the opportunity to reclaim Graham's attention, pulling them closer together, feeling Graham's hand slip into his own hair, tugging just slightly. Jamie smiles into the kiss, Graham's lips twitching against his, as Damon twigs their scheme, breaking from trying to interrupt them in favour of devious ministrations, thoroughly distracting. He bites at their clavicles, shoulders, laves across their skin, hands hot like brands, pressing down fervidly at the front of their jeans, laughing against their skin when either Jamie or Graham bucks at his touch.

Then Damon pulls back, walking himself backwards on his knees, sofa shifting beneath them, leaving Jamie's front cool in his absence. He cracks one eye open, looking straight at Graham, who lazily opens his. They pull back mutually to watch Damon disrobe completely, fiddling with each other's hair as they do so. Damon strips with little fanfare, chin held high as he kneels on the floor in front of Graham, looking at them expectantly. Jamie tuts, rolls his eyes, allows Graham to extricate himself and shuffle further forward, towards the edge of the seat, himself slipping behind Graham, kneeling with his legs either side so Graham can lean back slightly, wrapping his arms around his torso to restrain him, skimming a hand over Graham's pectoral, grinning into his hair when he shudders, breath hitching as his pelvis presses against the firm plane of his lower back.

Damon unzips Graham's shorts, pulls the material of the boxers over his cock and away, circling the base with his hand, and beginning to move his hand lightly, achingly slow, eyes boring into Graham's smugly. Graham throws his head back against Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie leans to press his lips to either side of Graham's neck, tracing his teeth over his pulse, dragging his tongue up to Graham's ear to bite at the lobe. Graham tenses against Jamie, and he knows Damon's taken Graham's length into his mouth, but he wasn't ready to see it.

Somehow, the removal of being only secondhand to the sensation - Graham's squirming presses his back against Jamie's cock, sure, but it's nothing like being taken in damp heat - makes it worse. He can watch, mostly unfazed, how Damon's lips brush low, moving in tandem with his hand, can see the movement of Damon's tongue in his mouth, the outline under his cheeks. Damon's eyes are glassy and blue where the iris can actually be seen, high on endorphins, neck bowed and posture reverent. Jamie shifts his hips against Graham's back, feeling a little ridiculous, but feeling Graham coming undone against his front is enough to distract him very quickly. Jamie keeps tracing his hand up and down Graham's front, the other arm holding him back, and he grins as Damon uses his right arm to pin his hips in place.

Graham's wracked with pleasure, moaning shamelessly into the wide space of the room, beyond gone. With a little flash of excitement, Jamie realises the door isn't locked; they're operating on good faith alone that nobody walks in, discovers their tryst. Graham's getting close, his hips stuttering and his breaths quick. Jamie places his free hand beneath Graham's throat, thumb and fourth finger at the corners of his jaw, steering his head back and to the side so Jamie can press their mouths together, sucking at Graham's tongue, stomach flipping when he comes into Damon's mouth with a low groan, shared between them, muffled.

Jamie peels himself urgently from behind Graham, who leans back into the vacated space with a hysterical laugh, the absurdity of the situation seemingly hitting him for the first time, throwing his arm across his forehead and staring blankly at the spotless white ceiling as he collects himself, beginning the process of forcing his breaths to regulate again. Jamie watches Damon in awe, the man hunched, kneeling, stroking himself with his head tipped back and eyes closed, fluttering beneath the lids, eyelashes dusky. His profile's noble. Jamie can see the flex of tendons beneath the skin of his arms and neck, the jump of his pulse.

Jamie shakily moves to a stand, unzipping his fly and attempting roughly to kick off his trousers, cursing as the legs catch on his shoes. He leans down to undo them, tearing his jeans off impatiently before clattering to kneel beside Damon, urgently steering him to the laminate floor, Damon laughing breathlessly at his induced clumsiness. He lies across the man, straddling one leg, kissing Damon and tasting what must be Graham on his tongue, before Damon huffs. "Oh come off it." A hand snakes into his hair to cradle the back of Jamie's skull, the other slipping around his back, and Damon carefully rolls them over, laughing huskily as Jamie splutters, tries to flip them back.

Damon holds Jamie down by the shoulder, hand brushing under his boxers to pull out his cock. Jamie hisses at the firm pressure, Damon's fingers roughened from guitar, and he strokes him relentlessly, keeping a constant pace, steady pace. Jamie arches his back, moving in time with Damon's hand, neck being littered with kisses, until he reaches climax, gasping, spent. He remains still on the ground, supine and wrecked, ribs shifting heavily. Damon's stroking himself, posture much the same as before, and Jamie just watches, no chance of getting aroused again, just taking in the pained beauty of the man.

Rolling his head to the side reveals Graham's doing much the same, dark eyes wide, as is customary. He's neatened himself up, tucked himself back into his shorts, though he's still shirtless, leaning his head on his fist, elbow resting on the arm of the sofa, looking entranced. Damon bites back a curse as he comes, semen hot on Jamie's stomach. "Fuck's sake, Damon." He hisses it under his breath, searching the room for a glimpse of tissues. Damon grins at him, teasingly leaning down to lick a strip through their mess, just to get a reaction from Jamie, before chuckling.

Damon shakily gets to his feet, and mooches around, on the hunt for something to clean themselves up with, Jamie and Graham just watching him move. He comes back with a handful of tissues, pilfered from a box in the corner, wiping Jamie's stomach clean and lobbing the wad into the bin in the corner, before pulling Jamie to his feet, grinning cheekily as he pull the man's boxers up for him, takes in the state of him, then Graham, their hair mussed, and promptly laughs at himself, their situation. Leave three middle-aged men in a room, and it ends like that.

He beckons Graham over, then pulls him and Jamie into a warm hug, pressing kisses to their foreheads, first Graham's, then Jamie's, tenderly, before ruffling their hair further and moving to pull back on his clothes.


End file.
